I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight
by Becki3
Summary: Just a morbid little Blaise and Nott ficlet. A companion to No More I Love You's.


Title: _I Just Died in Your Arms Tonight_

Rating: PG-16…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or an of the characters or the song so sue me not for I have little except for this mind in my head.

Other things: …Based upon my other Blaise and Nott fics…except a different conclusion than the one that I'm planning.

Pairings: Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, Semaus Finnigan and Dean Thomas

Author's Note: Companion to No More I Love You's. This is also related to another four fics, set post-war. (Will You Remember, Withering Away,Tenderhearted & Draining Rain). Rather morbid. ..The title is from the song by H.I.M. and blame for it goes to Auto because she told me to take the title of the song that was playing.

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He often had thought about it. A morbid little question, a test that he put himself through when he knew he shouldn't. But he had to. Until he decided which answer was right for him. It wasn't an activity he pursued often. Never when it would bother the one person that mattered. Sometimes he would go weeks without thinking of it, days or just a few minutes. At times he tried to distance himself from it. It won't happen for years and years, not before we're both old and gray and all too ready to go. And sometimes he pretended that he would happen tomorrow.

This night he made his decision.

Curled in the bed they shared, an arm about him even though Nott had drifted off hours before. His head was resting partially on the pillow as well as the chest beside him. The sound of soft breathing and rhythmic thumps. It was a difficult choice and it really didn't matter when it came down it. For some reason he doubted his opinion on the matter would count for very much.

But…but one would have to die without the other. Before for one reason or another. And then one would be alone.

Let it be me. Even if we're young, even if it means years and years, I know I can be patient and wait through…through what waiting might do to be. Because he shouldn't have to suffer through that. It's my fault that he ever would. Without me there would never be the threat of it happening to him. The worst that a person can suffer through. If one of us is going to be taken, take him first. And I'll pretend he's watching and expectant and free.

Blaise shifted up slightly, careful to avoid disturbing the limb surrounding him, so he can gaze down into the sleeping face.

You'd be upset if you knew my thoughts. These ones since you know all of the others. It's not a secret though; it's too obvious.

He leaned down and pressed his lips lightly against the parted ones.

Sweet dreams.

Whoever should have been listening, clearly hadn't been paying close attention.

It hadn't tasted like chocolate.

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Foxglove for the paralysis. Mistletoe and Nightshade to add a quaintness to it. Bleeding Heart to get to the point. Daphne, Wisteria and Golden Chain. Yew and Jasmine. Dieffenbachia. Make all the more certain that it was quick. A wild cherry in the very center. The acorns of an oak, ground to decorate the top. And in a final memorial shaped like miniature toads. A fatal delicacy.

This is not all for the past. It's for the future too. He's not normal. He can't really be considered human after all of the crimes he's committed. For all we know he could be influencing others. Somehow he's gotten Blaise to live with him. Probably a form of servitude, taking advantage of an incomplete person.

His heart clenched slightly. Blaise, a victim of the War in his own fashion, tipping the balance of his mind. The man needed care and help, not a murderer. Surely St. Mungos would have mended him eventually, restored the broken doll.

Yes. Acting now was the right choice. Even if Nott never touched a hair on another person's head with the intent of harm. Because…there was still the bitter past. And Blaise too. The sacrifice the public had made for this 'reformed' Nott.

Oh, sure, he'd get into trouble himself. The government prefers it when the world runs according to their rule book. But it wouldn't be for eternity. After he could return to his hard-earned life, his conscious satisfied.

And Dean would understand. He just had to.

It'll be like the old days. School days. They could always forgive each other. When Seamus doubted Harry, when Dean dated Ginny. There would be a way for his lover to wash away the blood away from him, like how he rinsed his brushes clean.

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What will you do without me?

He tried to convince himself that he was merely selfish and greedy, centering on his personal worth. Surely it wouldn't be difficult to move on. To forget and find someone else.

Blaise knew better. As he gazed up into those bewildered eyes his heart tore in a way it shouldn't. Everything else was becoming so numb. And he was tired, worn, more than he could ever remember being.

I'm sorry.

His tongue wouldn't move, lips unwilling to part. There was a fire in his throat and the burning creep through his middle to eventually dance inside his blood.

This isn't how it was supposed to go.

And he couldn't cry. Not that he would have. He just…just wanted to tell him, to speak. All the world trapped inside, his voice dying away.

Just like his body.

Please…please, I want to wake up and dig my fingers into his shirt and skin as I tell him of my dream. A silly little nightmare.

I don't want to go, it's early, we have some much to do.

Arm, familiar arms, cradling what's left of him. He can't see him anymore but those arms, they're burning through him. As if there is not fabric, searings the skin. Hold on, hold on. And a vice. His voice. Raspy and soft, breaking and repeating a name like a mantra.

Let me stay with him.

Fighting is hard and he's already lost but he won't give in. A struggle until it's beyond that point.

Fingers desperate, running over the relaxed face, trailing through the moisture that's stained the features.

Fin 


End file.
